If I am the impromptu text at 2:46am,
He's the perfect reply at exactly 9:30.

If I cannot any longer bear to wait
To hear the words that seal our fate
He cannot help but string me along
Like his words are a breathless, beautiful song.

The wait entices me to shut him out
To forget the night I'd been dreaming about.
It tells me that he's not really there,
Like it was a lie to speak of his care.

I fear that he places them on various pages
Analyzing how their angles cause changes
In the depth and the power
Of the words that once fell sour
Upon weepy eyes
Who garnered selfish surprise
Hung from doorknobs at midnight,
Reading again and again despite
The pain that ensued each stoke of my angry pen.
Spilling onto paper thoughts I'd never send.

Fate works in peculiar patterns,
Filling holes that never seemed to matter
And fighting demons that were hidden
Beneath sheets and sanity ridden
By men and by backs of knives
Whose sting reminds her she's
Already alive.